


Children of Zawame

by knightofsuperior



Category: Kamen Rider, Kamen Rider Gaim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofsuperior/pseuds/knightofsuperior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reporter travels to Zawame City on the one year anniversary of the Invess Invasion, and discovers the truth behind what happened during the events of Kamen Rider Gaim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children of Zawame

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I wrote for the Tokusatsu Big Bang (go check it out at http://tokubigbang.dreamwidth.org/, should be a lot of cool stories when it's all done!). 
> 
> I wanted to try to see what the story of Kamen Rider Gaim would be like from an outsider's perspective, someone who would have had no idea why aliens suddenly appeared out of nowhere one day. With that in mind, I also tried to follow up on the ending to the show as if the final episode and Drive/Gaim crossover didn't happen...sort of. Some elements from those appear in broad strokes throughout the story.
> 
> Some of the spellings I use may not be the fandom preferred ones; however, I'm going based on how I thought the names and such were translated. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding, thank you very much for reading this fic, and enjoy the story!
> 
> Spoiler alert for...well, ALL of Gaim.
> 
> Copyediting and story suggestions/editing by galaxyeyedrops (http://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyeyedrops/). Thank you very much for all the help!

_These are stories of despair._

_These are stories of hope._

_These are stories of a world destroyed._

_These are stories of a world united._

_These are stories of a war._

_These are stories of its victims._

_These are stories of heroes._

_These are stories of villains._

_These are stories of the Children of Zawame._

Shun Masaru leaned back in his chair and closed his laptop, packing it away in an old, worn briefcase. He turned his head to take a look out the window. The skyline darted by, a smudge on the window making half of the outside look like blurred, dripping paint from a watercolor piece. One thing stuck out, however, clear as day: Yggdrasil Tower. He would never understand why the tower wasn't demolished. Maybe it was as close to a landmark as the city could get? It seemed like it would be little more than a reminder of a horrifying tragedy. But then again, he didn't live here. Maybe the fact that it still stood was a testament to the city's resilience in the face of unspeakable-

A quiet jingle played over the intercom as a calm voice crackled from the speakers. “We have arrived at Zawame City. Please gather all of your belongings as you leave the train.” Shun snapped out of his thoughts and sat back up.

This was it. The culmination of everything he had been working on for the past year. Months upon months of research, travel, and effort had led up to this moment.

Shun picked up his briefcase and exited the train, pushing past a couple of attendants with little more than a quick “sorry”. A couple of people (teenagers, by the look of it) glanced over in his direction, whispering to each other. Maybe it had something to do with his look. Scraggly black hair. A five-o'clock shadow. A rumpled white shirt with a fairly-tattered black jacket. Black slacks littered with the remnants of peanut shells. Extremely scuffed dress shoes. He was definitely not someone under thirty, and he didn't exactly look professional, but after the trip he'd taken, professionalism wasn't exactly a priority.

The man looked around, taking in his surroundings. The station looked brand new-shiny white paint, greeters at every exit, and a bustling crowd pouring in and out of the train. Music played from off in the distance, a jaunty beat that Shun knew well: “Move Your Feet,” the newest single from the musical group, and Shun’s personal favorite band in recent memory, RR. He had ordered the single online, but the CD was going back to his house in Tokyo, so it’d be a while before he could get his hands on it. Rumors said they were from Zawame; maybe he’d get lucky and get an autographed copy.

A commercial blasted from the nearby monitors, inviting anyone and everyone to visit a local “fruit bar”. Kids ran past him, rushing to reach the trains before they left. Businessmen sat and chatted at small tables over coffee, cheerful as can be. The entire area just felt like it was full of life.

One could be forgiven for forgetting that this city was once the epicenter of an alien invasion.

\----

_It began with a zipper in the sky._

_It was an odd sight, to be sure. But then again, there had been many odd sights in Otomo lately. Witnesses claimed to have seen a man in a skeleton suit fighting what appeared to be werewolves on numerous occasions. Whether it was some sort of film shoot or a few cosplayers having a laugh at the expense of the city, no one was entirely sure. So maybe this had something to do with the “Skull Man.”_

_Then the zipper opened, and all hell broke loose._

_Monstrous forms, misshapen and screeching, fell from the sky and stormed the streets, attacking anyone and anything that stood in their way. Green, thorny vines sprung out of the zipper and swarmed their way into every single crevice in the city, wrapping buildings and people alike in their grip._

_Over 300 people died on the day that the Inves Invasion began. Those who survived would be forever changed._

_This wasn’t where the Invasion started. Its origin was actually the city of Zawame, a town run by a global mega corporation by the name of Yggdrasil._

_But this is where my role in the story began._

It had started off pretty simple, in a way. Shun had pitched the idea to his editor as a sort-of expose, sort-of thriller: an account of the Inves Invasion, as told through the eyes of those who were on the front lines of the war. He wasn't referring to the military forces that fought back the monsters, while they would absolutely play a role; he was actually referring to the civilians that had their lives upended by the onslaught of terrifying creatures from another world. Shun had some experience with said creatures, but managed to weather out the attack in a Tokyo emergency shelter. Hearing the tales of the survivors' struggles gave him the inspiration to give this idea a shot.

The pitch went like this: Shun would spend one day in different cities that were hit during the Invasion and ask everyone and anyone he could find where they were, what they were doing, and how they reacted to the crisis. He’d get a bunch of stories, compile them all into one big article, and share his findings with the world. Shun had big plans for the series. This wouldn't just center around Japan, oh no-this would be a globetrotting affair. From New York City in the United States to Rome in Italy and beyond, the Inves had affected the lives of so many-and so few were hearing their stories. No, all the news was about the Yggdrasil Corporation and their horrifying actions to cull and control humanity under the guise of being its savior. Even the government itself was condemning the company's actions, claiming they had opened a portal to another world and were willing to select and choose who would survive when everything eventually went south. Yggdrasil's actions were abhorrent, to be sure, but in their rush to be the first to expose their crimes, news outlets were ignoring the very people Yggdrasil had tried to decimate.

Shun's editor wasn't immediately on board. Shun had certainly made a name for himself in the news world with his investigations into organized crime families and their victims, and it had garnered both him and the online newspaper he wrote for, the Shining Star, a lot of positive press. However, a common criticism came up throughout Shun's investigations-he was too invested in the human interest angle. While there was some solid reporting on the crimes themselves, and the connections between the different families, a good 3/4ths of the articles were about the people these crimes affected. Even with that, they only ever focused on one person's story in each article instead of a wider range of victims. Maybe this beat could give Shun a chance to fix these problems.

The editor eventually gave in and gave Shun a chance. The reporter was assigned a one-shot article on how the Invasion affected his hometown of Otomo. After all, if he wanted to make it hit close to home, what better place to start? Shun went to work, interviewing anyone and everyone he could. He heard different stories-relatives going missing as the Inves spread, desperate attempts to fight off the monsters, and even tales of heroic rescues and tragic final stands against the menace.

Unfortunately, not everyone was so heroic. Some told of friends turning on each other in the chaos that followed the attacks, and of crime running rampant as the end of the world seemed nigh. For every good deed Shun heard about, there was an equally bad one from the next person he talked to. For better or for worse, there were stories aplenty. He compiled as many of those stories as he could into an article he titled “The Children of Zawame”, a reference to the city that was labeled ground zero of the Invasion-the city that led a world, and its people, to the brink of destruction.

The first day the article was put up, it had about three hundred views-a normal amount for a new article on the site. The second day, that number had doubled to six hundred. By the end of the third day, it had broken the million-view mark. By the end of the fourth day, it had been translated into over seventy different languages, and the view counter was going off the charts.

The editor immediately commissioned a series of “Children of Zawame” articles. Shun was flown out to places all over the world, with people lining up to have their stories be told. He was invited multiple times to multiple places-talk shows, seminars, the works-to tell the tales he couldn't fit into his articles. Everywhere he went, though, people would always ask him the same question:

“What actually happened in Zawame?”

Now, almost a year later, Shun knew it was time to answer that question. He had come to Zawame with the intent to finish what he'd started. It was time to find the real children of Zawame.

But first, he needed to get something to drink. He was parched.

\---

_Druper’s Fruit Bar is an unassuming little dive deep in the heart of Zawame. It’s got some food (generally sweets or candied snacks), but it prides itself on its variety of fruit drinks, which range from simple apple juice to the hardest liquor you could imagine. The owner, Bando, is a nice guy, the kind who will listen to you complain about your job or offer you a drink on the house when you need a pick-me-up. He’s seen a lot of stuff in his years running Druper’s, but nothing could prepare him for being on the front lines of the Inves Invasion. Before I learned about his part in the whole story, though..._

Shun took a sip of his drink, letting out a contented sigh as he placed it back down. It wasn't anything too special-some kind of mixed fruit smoothie-but damn, was it good. Things were quiet in the place; it was as if he was the only customer in the bar. The only other person there was some guy in shades and a leather jacket, and he looked to be engrossed in trying to stack up his ice cream sundae.

He looked up at the bartender. The guy seemed like he'd just gotten back from a Hawaiian vacation, with a tacky button-down shirt (were those parrots or tiki statues? Shun couldn't really tell) with a logo t-shirt underneath, and some gaudy red pants. Shun felt a little better about his own current look in retrospect.

The bartender looked over at Shun. “What is it? Something on my shirt?”

Shun shook his head. “No, no, it's just-that's a pretty...unique outfit you have there.”

The bartender began to grin. “Thank you! I do kind of like it myself.” Shun couldn't tell if he was being serious or if he was trying to mess with him. “How’s your drink?”

“It’s good,” Shun said, “but it could use a little more lime, in my opinion.”

The bartender groaned. “I always forget the lime! Y’know, I used to have a kid working here, Kouta Kazuraba. Good kid, big heart. Wasn’t too great at cleaning dishes, but he knew how to make a smoothie.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining-I’m just a bit of a fiend for lime.”

The bartender chuckled. “You should try our Key Lime Pie, then. Got limes fresh from America.” He stuck out a hand. “Kiyojiro Bando. Nice to meet you.”

Shun reached out and shook Bando's hand. “Shun Masaru. Likewise.”

Bando pulled his hand back, bringing it up to his chin. “Shun Masaru...that name sounds familiar...” After a moment, the bartender snapped his fingers. “You're the guy who wrote those articles about the Inves attacks, right?”

Shun nodded his head. “That's right.”

Bando moved over to the drink-mixing table, placing different fruits into a blender. “I read a few of those-I like your writing style. But there was just something...missing.”

Shun leaned forward. He was no stranger to criticism-after all, you can't please everyone. Some people wanted their stories to have more priority over others, and others didn't think some stories were all that important. But...missing? That was new. If anything, people complained that the articles sometimes had too much stuffed into them.

“I'm sorry, but what exactly do you mean by 'missing'?”

Bando put the top on the blender, and turned around to face Shun. “Well, you didn't have anything from here in Zawame itself.”

Shun chuckled. “Well, I wasn't allowed to go here right away when I started-and after that, I kept getting dragged around everywhere else. Besides, I wanted to see what things would be like this long after the Invasion.”

Bando nodded. “Fair enough, sure. But you missed a huge chunk of the story by not starting here. After all, you didn't even mention the Beat Riders in any of your articles so far!”

That wasn't a term Shun had heard before. “I'm sorry...Beat Riders?”

Bando started to laugh. Shun glared, taking another sip from his drink. As he placed it back down, he asked, “What's so funny?”

Bando walked out from behind the counter. “You're telling me,” he asked as he took a seat next to Shun, “that in all the research you did, after everything you looked into, that you've never heard of the Beat Riders? Well, I'm not all that surprised-whatever the official story is, they got left out there too. Who’d believe it, anyway?”

Shun was confused. How had he not heard about this? Bando mentioned an official story-was he talking about the government's statements? Shun quickly opened up his briefcase and took out the laptop. He opened it up-the word document he had been working on on the train was still there, ready to be edited.

Bando waited until Shun was ready, then continued. “The Beat Riders were tricked by Yggdrasil into test-driving their technology. That whole evil plan that everyone talks about-did you ever notice that they never go into detail on what it is?”

Shun looked over at Bando. The man was right-not once, in any of their addresses on the Invasion, did the Japanese government-hell, any government-actually explain what Yggdrasil had tried to do to “save” the world. Shun's fingers flew across the keyboard as Bando did his best to explain what went on in the days leading up to the Invasion's start. Some of it was almost too ridiculous to even imagine-fruit-themed mechanical locks? Feuds between dance teams solved by monster battling? Armored warriors that looked like oranges, bananas, grapes-it sounded like something out of a television program. Aliens were weird enough to believe already, and there was more than enough proof of them. But this...

Shun stopped typing as Bando's ramblings seemed to come to an end. From what Bando was saying, the Riders eventually stopped feuding when the Invasion began, and most of them tried to help fight them off. However, before the Inves vanished, the majority of the remaining Riders-and Bando himself-were rushed out of the city by the military. What happened after that, Bando wasn't sure, but he and everyone else who had been evacuated were allowed back into the city a few months later.

Shun sighed. This was going to be a lot trickier than he expected. “So, where are the Beat Riders now?”

“You got a map?”

Shun handed over his map of the town. Bando marked off an area in the center of town and handed it back. Shun pocketed the map and put the laptop back in the briefcase. “Much appreciated.”

Bando grinned. “No problem at all-just remember, a lot of these kids aren't big fans of adults like you or me. Not after everything that's happened. So don't be surprised if they're not too chatty at first.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Have a nice day, Bando.”

As Shun exited Druper's fruit bar, he could hear Bando calling out from behind him:

“Enjoy your time in Zawame!”

\-----

_It was nothing but blue skies and sunshine over Yggdrasil Tower. The green grass and the cool breeze made the downtown Zawame landscape seem like one big college quad. The massive amounts of teenagers and 20-somethings gathering around helped. Why were they all here though? Was there a band? Or some kind of show? I shuffled my way through the crowd, passing by all of the kids (and spotting a few adults among the cheering fans) to see just what was going on. And, well..._

Was this what they called dancing nowadays?

Shun watched from a distance as the Beat Riders moved around on stage. It looked like they were playing Dance Dance Revolution or something. But, then again, people were enjoying the show-maybe he was just out of touch with the times.  Either way, it looked like the dance-off was coming to an end. As the dancers high-fived and chatted with each other, Shun slowly and carefully made his way over. “Excuse me! Excuse me, would you happen to be Beat Riders?”

A few of the dancers glanced over. Now that he was up close, Shun could notice a few different team logos-”Gaim,” “Raid Wild,” “Baron”. He took out a small journal and jotted this down before looking back up at the Riders. “I'm Shun Masaru. I'm a writer for the Shining Star-any of you ever read that?” A few heads shook “no”, a few voices whispered confused questions.

”What's that?”

“Who's he?”

“He looks kind of creepy.”

Shun shook that last one off and continued. “I've been doing a series of articles on the Inves Invasion, and I was wondering if any of you could provide any stories-”

“Piss off, man!” Shun turned to where the voice was coming from, a young man in a Raid Wild jacket. “We're busy!” A couple of his friends nodded and murmured their agreement. “You want news? I hear there's a guitar playing robot somewhere in Tokyo! There's gotta be a headline in there somewhere!” Shun seethed silently as the dancers all chuckled and murmured further.

Everyone turned, however, at the sound of something clacking on the stone pathway near the stage. The sound came from a young man wearing a Baron jacket, walking along with a red and black cane, which tapped with every step he took. He held out a hand to the Raid Wild member. “Wait.” He looked over to Shun. “Why do you want to hear from us?”

Shun walked up closer to the stage as the Team Baron member kneeled down. “This was the epicenter of the whole Invasion-everything started from here. But that's as much as I knew-up until the nice man from the fruit bar-”

“Mr. Bando?”

“-yes, him, he told me that you guys had...” How was he going to put this? “...a very important role in everything that happened.”

As he spoke, Shun noticed that a lot of the Riders had grown silent, even the mouthy one from earlier. Had he struck a nerve? Did something happen to these kids during the Invasion?

The Team Baron member stood upright and walked up to Shun, quickly followed by another not too far behind. The two looked alike. The first had dark black hair, with a bit of a tall stature-at least, compared to the other one, who had brown hair and a bit of a lankier frame. The dark-haired man held out his hand. “I'm Zack.” He used his other hand to gesture with his thumb at the other fellow. “This is Peco.” Shun returned the handshake, and held his hand out to Peco-with no response. As Shun put his hand down, Zack walked past him. “Follow me, and I'll tell you as much as I can. Everyone else, just keep dancing! We'll be back soon.”

The dancers slowly went back to their free-form routine, and Shun walked alongside Zack and Peco. “So,” Shun began, “where were you when the Inves-”

“Charmont.”

Shun jumped slightly as Peco came up beside him. Quickly regaining his composure, he asked, “I'm sorry, what was that?”

Peco looked to Zack. “Wouldn't it be safer to talk about something like this at Charmont? At least there,” he clarified, looking around at the small crowd gathering near the trio, “we can be sure no one is listening in.”

Zack nodded. “Smart idea.” He turned to Shun. “Don't worry, it's not too far off.”

Shun nodded, though he was skeptical. What made this “Charmont” safer to talk in than any other public place?

\-----

_The sweet aroma of baked goods wafted through the store with all the force of a kick to the chest. It wasn’t just that Charmant smelled nice; it smelled HEAVENLY. The food looked, smelled, and (from what I could tell by the looks on the customers’ faces) WAS delicious. This entire place just screamed “cultured,” and the chefs walking around in full dress just added to the atmosphere. Zack walked into the kitchen, waving to a few of the chefs as he did so (I later found out he was more than just any old regular, but we’ll get to that in a bit). A mere twenty seconds later..._

“Out! We're closed! _Allez!_ **_Sortie!_** I SAID _**OUT!**_ ”

Within seconds, the bakery was cleared clean out. Not a single customer remained. The only ones there were Zack, Peco, Shun, and...

How could Shun even begin to categorize this guy?

He talked in a hybrid of French and Japanese, he had military memorabilia all over the shop, and he dressed...dandily, was the best way Shun could describe it at the time (did they even make flower patterns like that anymore?). Oren Pierre Alfonso was an odd character, to be sure.

Oren turned and poked his head into the kitchen. “Jonouchi! We have a guest! Out here, now!”

A groan burst forth from the kitchen. “But the souffle isn't ready yet!”

“It should've been ready half an hour ago!”

“There was a problem with one of the stove knobs and it just explo-”

“Merde! Just take it out and start over when our guest leaves!”

“Can't you deal with them yourself?”

_**“Allons-y!”** _

A few seconds later, an incredibly disheveled-looking, bespectacled young man, dressed in a ruffled shirt, a black vest, and black dress pants stumbled out of the kitchen. He was splattered with what looked to be dough, and Shun noticed that his glasses had a lens popped out, the inside of the frame covered with some kind of frosting. This was not that poor kid's day.

“Mr. Masaru, this is Jonouchi, my protege,” Oren introduced. “He's friends with these two,” he continued, gesturing to Zack and Peco, “and was in one of those...'dance teams' before he started working for me.” Shun took note of the disdainful tone that Oren gave to the term “dance teams” before nodding to Jonouchi.

“How do you do?”

The glare Shun got was answer enough.

Shun gave a nervous chuckle. “Well...would it be alright I asked everyone to take a seat?”

The others sat down at the nearest table, Shun quickly following suit. He took out his laptop, and a pocket tape recorder. With this many people to talk to, it might come in handy. He pressed play, and opened the laptop. “So...let's get started with something simple. How did you all get involved with the Inves Invasion?”

Peco frowned. “That's not simple at all.”

Shun turned to him. “Well, you all had to get into this whole mess somehow, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah, but it's not like we just popped into the story.” Peco put a hand in his pocket, seemingly fiddling with something. “Well, maybe Mr. Alfonso did, but-”

“Excuse me!” Oren slammed his hand on the table. “I did not just 'pop' in! It was far more-” He stopped, almost unnaturally, and quickly shot a glance over to Jonouchi. Jonouchi was looking down at the table, almost avoiding eye contact with the group.

“We were members of Team Baron.” Shun turned to face Zack, who had propped his elbows up on the table. Oren looked ready to strike him down like a spiteful god, but refrained from acting. “Peco and I. We were both dancers, and when the Lock Dealers came to town-”

“I'm sorry-Lock Dealers?”

“They're the ones who sold us Lockseeds to ramp things up.” Zack raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Bando didn't tell you about them?”

Shun thought back, scrolling through his notes. Right in big bold print, the words “Lock Dealers” had been underlined. “Huh. I guess he did.”

Zack nodded. “Must've been a lot to write down.”

“You have no idea.”

Jonouchi looked up, seemingly having gotten over whatever was troubling him previously. “I was in a team too-Invitto-and I was sort of the team captain. When we got our hands on Lockseeds...things changed really fast. I mean, before, you just danced and people voted if they liked you or not. We couldn't really do much else. But once we started summoning Inves...”

“Whoever had the strongest ones had the most control,” Peco finished. “And even then, it got some people thinking they were on top of the world...” At this, he grew silent for a moment. He pulled his hand out of the pocket it had been lodged in for the past minute, and placed something down on the table-a slingshot. “I was one of them.”

Zack nodded. “Same here. We were...” He sighed. “We were bullies. Plain and simple.” Jonouchi remained silent, but his face betrayed a guilty conscience. They were on different teams, but it seems like the allure of Lockseeds had everyone going crooked.

Shun paused typing. “...would you be able to elaborate?”

“We would find ways to get the strongest lockseeds possible, and whenever we couldn't get them, we'd find other ways to win Inves battles.” Peco picked up the slingshot. “This one slingshot won us dozens of battles alone.” Zack put a hand to his forehead. Did he have a headache? Or was it something else?

“But then everything changed. The Sengoku Drivers showed up out of nowhere, and suddenly, Armored Riders took the Inves Games by storm. Gaim had the first one, then us, with our captain-Kaito-becoming one himself. Hell, even I got one eventually.”

Shun's eyes widened. This kid was one of the Armored Riders?

“Which Rider were you? The orange, the banana, the grape, what?”

Zack looked away for a moment, embarrassed. He muttered something under his breath.

Shun leaned in closer. “I'm sorry, could you say that a little louder? I couldn't hear.”

Zack looked back over. “I was, uh...I was the walnut.”

The entire table sat quietly.

“...the walnut.”

“Yes.”

“...what was your specialized weapon? A sword? A hammer?”

“...giant fists.”

“...right. How’d you end up becoming a Rider?”

Zack sighed. “It was...strange. Before, all the Riders had been trying to one-up each other, with only one of them-Gaim's rider, a guy named Kouta-even considering trying to help other people. He actually did a decent job at it, but I didn’t care...at first. After Peco here dared to tell Kaito that he wanted to dance instead of fight, he just up and left. I got control of the team-and a spare Driver that Kaito had...found somewhere.”

“Stolen, got it,” Shun muttered into the recorder. Zack gave him a weird look, but gave no other indication he'd heard him.

“There was this big dance event, and-” Zack stopped mid-sentence (a common occurrence by this point with the interviewees, Shun noted), and looked over to Jonouchi and Oren. Oren sighed, shaking his head.

“You might as well tell the man.”

“Tell me what?”

Zack grimaced. “Well...Jonouchi and Mr. Alfonso tried to crash the dance, with the help of some Inves.”

...now this was a twist.

Zack continued on, quickly glossing over the others' actions in the dance-off. “After that, I just...got used to the idea of being responsible for not just the team, but anyone who needed help, really. I had power only a few other people had-I could actually do something with myself for both myself and others. I didn't have to just pick fights anymore to get satisfaction. It...it felt good.”

Shun smiled. Zack seemed like an alright kid. A real underdog story.

Zack grinned over at Peco. “And my pal Peco stood by me all the way.”

Peco grinned just as wide. “Hey, what're friends for?”

At that comment, Jonouchi eye twitched. Not a “oh lord, not friendship” twitch, but...something else. Shun turned his attention to the patissier protege. “And what about you? Were you a Rider too?”

“Well...yes.” Of course he was. “When the fighting started, I tried to battle with Lockseeds alone, but then the...erm...”grape” Rider beat me. I tried working with Team Baron, but that didn't last too long. Soon enough, though, we got our own belts as well,” Jonouchi piped in.

“You mean, your team?”

Jonouchi paused. “...no. I meant myself...and Ryoji Hase.”

The entire table grew silent at the mention of that name. Shun chose his next words carefully. “Was he...a friend of your's?”

Apparently, he'd chosen poorly, because the next thing he knew, Jonouchi was close to tears. “...he...he was,” the young man choked out. “But...but I didn't....he was...he was just a tool to me. A tool to get to the top...maybe he knew it, maybe he didn't...but maybe he didn't care. He just went along with whatever I did because he thought we were the best of pals.”

Shun brought his hand close to the tape recorder. “Hey, I'm-I'm sorry. You want me to pause the-”

“No!” Jonouchi hands clenched into fists. “No. I want to-I need to talk about this.”

Shun backed his hand away. “You're the boss.”

Jonouchi sniffled, using a handkerchief to wipe his face. “I used Hase as a tool. He was just a way for me to practice and muscle when I needed it. But to him, we were best buds. We worked under Kumon Kaito for a little while before we got our belts. Then, we tried to go against him, but Kouta and another friend of his...well, they kicked our asses.” He chuckled, his reminiscing bringing a small smile to his face. The smile quickly went away as he continued. “Then, we both ended up just...drifting apart.” It was obvious that this wasn’t all it was, but Shun didn’t push the point. “I didn't even start to worry about him until the Invasion was starting...and then he was just...gone.”

Shun looked down, tuning out the conversation momentarily. It was obvious he'd opened up some floodgates, but that was never his intention-he just wanted to know who this Hase kid was.

“-and then he became one of them.”

...wait, what was that?

Shun looked over at Zack and Peco, who both bore saddened expressions. The same went for Oren, even more so, if possible. They were all staring at Jonouchi, who had obviously not intended for that to be spoken as loudly as it was. Shun had obviously missed some major context as well, so, he leaned in closer with the recorder. “I'm sorry, could you run that one by me again? All of what you just said?”

Jonouchi looked Shun in the eyes for a moment, before looking away.. “I don’t know what happened. In detail, at least. The last time I saw Hase-the last time any of us did, I think-was a little after the Christmas Game.”

“Christmas Game?”

Jonouchi nodded. “All of the teams got together around Christmas to try to collect the most lockseeds in the forest. It was supposed to be another way of just competing against each other.”

Shun leaned in closer. Now this was interesting. “So, what happened? Who won?”

Jonouchi looked away, sighing as he scratched his head. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you for sure. I think it might’ve been Team Gaim. I got knocked out not too long into it, and I woke up outside a little while later.”

Oren quickly added, “But, I was there! I can tell you all you need to know about the battle-it was magnifique!” Alfonso started to spin a tale of grand battles with his “Monsieur Banana” and the “lovely melon”, but Shun noticed that Jonouchi had started to leave part way through the story, mumbling something about needing to clean the ovens. The kid obviously didn’t want to talk about his friend becoming one of those...things. Not that Shun could blame him. He’d have to come back later on and ask him some more questions.

Oren’s story slowed to a stop as Jonouchi left. He turned directly to Shun, his expression sobering, switching to steely and cool.. “...look. I’m going to be honest. I’m…” He sighed, fiddling with thumb. “I’m partially to blame for his friend’s death.”

Shun was confused. “What do you mean?”

Oren stood up, walking to one of the windows in the bakery. “When I became one of the Riders, I thought I could teach the kids of this town a lesson-appreciation for true artistry, for true battle. I’ve seen wars beyond measure, and there were horrors to be sure-but there was also a beauty in the battle that it seemed only I could understand, while these kids played war like it was a game. I thought I had to do something. So…” He looked back, wiping his eyes for a moment. “I hurt these kids. I fought them and I humiliated them-that Hase boy especially. From what others have told me since, that weighed heavily on him. The boy became a monstrous beast. I can’t help but feel at least a bit responsible.”

Shun shook his head. “Look, whatever this kid did, it was probably a lot of stuff all at once-” He stopped immediately as Oren’s glare pierced through the distance between them.

“No matter how small the bullet, the wound can still cause unbelievable damage. It’s as true in life as it is in war.”

Shun quieted after that, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. He looked to Zack and Peco. “So,” he asked, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible, “you mentioned you used to have a guy named Kaito running your team. What was he like? Any way I can get into contact with him?”

Both didn’t respond for a moment. Peco was glancing over at Zack, who was looking down at the floor. Shun noticed his fists curled up into a ball. This wasn’t gonna be any happier than everything else they chatted about, was it? Zack eventually looked back up.

“Kaito was a good guy. He cared about us. Not just the team, but each of the members.”

Peco nodded. “He had a thing for power. He wanted as much as he could, but not for its own sake. He wanted to help protect us...at first.”

“When the Inves started to invade,” Zack continued, “he started changing. He wanted more and more power, and seeing people with more power than he did, like when we fought the Over-” Zack stopped there, seemingly realizing he was about to have a similar slip of the tongue to Jonouchi. “...when we fought some really strong Inves, well...it made him want more and more. Eventually, it got to the point where he was the bigger threat. And…” Zack trailed off, looking down at his leg and cane.

Couldn’t take a genius to guess who was responsible for that.

Peco picked up the slack, adding, “He’s...no longer with us. So you won’t be able to get in touch with him.”

Shun wasn’t too surprised, given that if he was alive, he’d probably have been dancing with the rest of the kids. “I appreciate the info, at least.”

“No problem,” Zack said quietly, his eyes starting to water. Shun grimaced. Well, good work, Shun. You managed to cause two kids to have breakdowns in one day. That’s a new record.

The bell on the front door jingled quietly, and Shun could hear footsteps behind him. Oren stood up, arms crossed and head down. He looked like he was about to blow his stack. “Did you not read the sign? We’re closed!” The patissier looked up, scowling. “Come back tom-” He stopped mid-sentence, his arms falling to his side, looking as if he had just told God to go to hell. Zack looked surprised, while Peco looked away altogether. Shun looked around, and his jaw dropped.

In front of the four stood two men. One wore a very fancy suit-the kind of suit that couldn’t cost anything less than 60,000 yen-with a green handkerchief in the breast pocket. His hair wasn’t all too different from Shun’s-scraggly and somewhat unkempt-looking-, but with the suit, it seemed a lot more professional. Next to him was someone younger, wearing a striped sweater and tan slacks, with more clean-looking, straighter hair. While he didn’t recognize the latter, Shun sure as hell knew the former was. After all, this guy was broadcasted all over the media in the aftermath of the Invasion.

This was Takatora Kureshima, one of the head architects behind the Yggdrasil Humanity Decimation Plan.

The first words out of the man’s mouth confirmed Shun’s suspicions easily:

“It’s me.”

\---------------------

_Have you ever wanted to punch somebody right in the jaw?_

_I’m sure that you have. I know I have._

_I’m sure many of you would like to do that and more to Takatora Kureshima, the face of the Yggdrasil pharmaceutical company that set this whole horrifying event into motion. And he wouldn’t blame you one bit. His company led our world to the brink of ruin, to the very precipice of destruction and anarchy._

_And I was locked inside of a car with him._

_We were in an Yggdrasil-chartered limousine, heading straight for the Zawame City Day of Remembrance ceremony. “Ceremony.” Right. He knew it, I knew it, and everyone in that limousine cab knew it._

_We were going to a wake._

The limousine was silent, quietly rolling through the streets of Zawame. Shun looked forward. The man who was in charge of the plot to cull humanity was right in front of him. He wasn’t in jail. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t being punished for his crimes against the human race.

Instead, he was quietly biting into a piece of melon bread.

Shun looked to his left. Zack and Peco were quietly whispering to each other. He looked to his right. Jonouchi was trying to talk to Mitsuzane Kureshima, Takatora’s younger brother, to some success. if you could call one word answers “success”.

He looked forward again. Oren was the only one who seemed to share his unease-but he couldn’t tell if it was because of their proximity to the man who very well may have kickstarted the Invasion, or something else. At the bakery, he and Takatora spoke like old friends. Obviously, Oren had traded his taste in friends for his baking skill.

Shun cleared his throat, breaking the silence. Takatora looked up from his bread, placing it down on his lap. “I’m sorry,” Takatora began, “I had to rush out and didn’t have much time to have breakfast. I didn’t intend to be rude. Please, ask as many questions as you would like.”

Shun took out his recorder and started taping. “First and foremost, why? Why did you put the Earth at such huge risk?”

Mitsuzane turned at this question and glared at Shun. Shun quickly added, “I’m sure that it wasn’t anything intentional, but either way, your work at Yggdrasil led to the near-destruction of our planet. What in the world could even begin to explain-”

“I can’t tell you right now.”

Shun pressed on. “Why? Are you under some kind of non-disclosure agreement?”

“No.”

“Then why not?”

Takatora gestured to the tape recorder. “That. I would like you not to use that. Please.”

Shun reluctantly moved his thumb to the “stop” button. “Alright, we’re off. Can I at least write it down?”

Takatora nodded. “That would be preferable. Physical recording devices can be lost or leaked a lot more easily than a reporter’s own laptop. I would assume you don’t easily drop one of those.”

Shun took said laptop out of its case and opened it up. “Fair enough.” He opened his word processor and readied himself. “Alright. So, wh-”

“How much do you know about what actually happened?” Shun’s mouth snapped shut. This guy was fast.

“Well, I know that your company was doing experiments and found an alien world that was gonna invade ours. I also know that instead of trying to stop the invasion, you all tried to cull humanity so that some of us would survive while the rest became martian chow. I think you called it “Project Ark.” Am I wrong?”

Takatora frowned at this. “You’re not entirely off the mark. I will admit that Yggdrasil put our resources into survival technologies and planning as opposed to trying to repel the invasion. However, there was more going on behind the scenes that-”

“Behind the scenes? So you admit there was some secret work going on-”

“I mean that there’s more than what you see on the news. A reporter should know this.” Takatora crossed his arms. “May I continue?”

Shun went silent again.

“Thank you. Now, you seem to have a general grasp on what Yggdrasil’s plans were. I went along with them out of necessity-we literally had no other option. At least, that’s what I was told…”

Takatora wove a tale of political intrigue and deceit, a story of how he was manipulated by a mad scientist friend of his, Sengoku Ryouma (a real Frankenstein type by the sounds of it), and how those who worked under him both undermined him in secret and even tried to kill him in order to gain unlimited power.

Both he, Ryouma, and a few other subordinates created the Sengoku Drivers, and updated models known as Genesis Drivers (Real subtle, Shun thought), using materials from the so-called Helheim Forest. This forest was on another planet, one completely overrun with Inves. Supposedly, it was only a matter of time before they made their way to Earth. Yggdrasil intended to use the Sengoku Drivers to make it so people could survive under the conditions that the inevitable conquest of Earth would bring. The Beat Riders were little more than lab rats, though one-Kaito Kumon, a name that Zack tuned into the conversation at the mention of-apparently ended up working with Ryoma and his little gang somewhere along the line. Shun could kind of guess now where Zack’s belt came from. Ryouma eventually went rogue, allying himself and some other defectors with the leaders of the Inves, the Overlords. Things went to hell in a handbasket in the blink of an eye.

Shun was both impressed and horrified. Yggdrasil had a bounty of scientific advancements: interdimensional travel, technology that could sustain a human being through the worst conditions imaginable, and a freaking entryway into what was basically the Inves base of operations. They could have done so well if they had publicized their discoveries; humanity could have potentially made first contact and peace with an alien race! Unfortunately, that entryway worked on both sides, and the Inves weren’t interested in making friends at that point.

Takatora continued, going on to mention a young man who had helped him find hope in the depths of despair: Kouta Kazuraba, also known as Armored Rider Gaim. This was the third time he had heard that name today. A bartender, a Rider, a therapist-just who the hell was this guy?

Shun noticed something else interesting as the story went on. Every now and again, Takatora’s eyes would dart towards Mitsuzane, particularly during the portions of the story revolving around Ryoma's betrayal. He didn’t appear to realize he was doing this, either. To his credit, the younger Kureshima didn’t make eye contact back-at least, not immediately. But as Takatora wound up his story, ending with a coma he went into after being mercilessly beaten by an Overlord, Shun noticed Mitsuzane looking down, away from his brother’s line of sight. However, Mitsuzane noticed Shun’s glance, and snapped his head back up, turning towards the window and away from everyone else.

“...and that’s where you find us now.” The car slowed to a stop, as if on cue, and Shun’s typing slowed to a stop. “I’ve told this story to every reputable paper in Japan and not one of them believed a word of it. My subordinates have had to tell them I’m working on a fictional tale to work out my guilt.” He chuckled-a surprising sight, given the seriousness with which he told his story. “Maybe they’ll listen to someone a bit more on their side instead."

Shun closed up his laptop. “What do you expect from them? Forgiveness? Redemption? Intentional or not, you nearly destroyed humanity. That’s not something you walk away from.”

At that moment, both Mitsuzane and Takatora visibly cringed. There was definitely something up here. In the end, Takatora said only this:

“I’m afraid I can’t say, Mr. Masaru. I don’t quite know myself.”

The doors on the limo opened up, sunlight streaming into the cab. Everyone began gathering their belongings and shuffling their way out, eventually leaving Mitsuzane and Shun as the last ones to leave. As the Kureshima began to step outside, Shun gently tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but would I be able to ask you a couple questions before we get going?”

“No.”

Shun took out the recorder, thumb hovering over the record button. “Kid, don’t worry. Whatever your stake in all that happened was, you’ll get a fair shake. I gave it to your brother. I don’t mind sharing the privilege.”

Micchy backhanded the recorder out of Shun’s grip. The recorder fell onto the seat, bouncing lightly onto the record button and turning on. Micchy glanced down at it, and reached to pick it up. His hand hovered over the device for a few seconds before he withdrew it.

“Look. You want to hear the truth? I made some mistakes. I...I hurt people.” Micchy turned to Shun, his voice cracking as he tried to hold back tears. “I hurt people I cared about and now I can’t do anything to tell them I’m sorry. I betrayed the world, I betrayed humanity, I betrayed anything and anyone I could to get what I wanted. All of that, I could live with. But I betrayed the three people in the world that cared about me more than anyone else. I hit the point of no return. You said it yourself-’that’s not something you walk away from,’ right?”

With that, the younger Kureshima walked out, leaving Shun alone. He picked up the recorder and pressed stop.

Then he pressed rewind.

\----

_Funerals are never easy to get through. Whether or not you were close to the deceased, the raw emotions that come from a funeral can bring out both the best in people and the worst. Given that wakes are one big funeral, these emotions tend to be amplified tenfold._

_Unfortunately, I can’t tell you I saw the best of people there, or the worst. Things just aren’t that black and white._

_The instant we walked into the memorial building, the screaming began._

_“Get out of here!”_

_“Murderer!”_

_“Give me back my children!”_

_Kureshima quietly and calmly walked down the aisle, separated from the citizens of Zawame by only a thin rope and a wall of guards armed with riot shields. Protesters screamed chants, swears, and death threats from the sidelines. More still were seated in chairs lined all across the memorial floor. Each of them held a different colored flag. Yellow meant they had someone close to them go missing. Green meant that someone they knew was hurt in the Invasion._

_Black meant they had lost someone._

_There were a very large number of black flags in sight that day._

_Kureshima reached the podium at the front of the room. He placed his hands on both sides of it, and leaned into the microphone to begin his speech..._

“I come here before you today not to ask for forgiveness, for you will not give myself or Yggdrasil that kindness. Nor should you. I come here to join you in mourning. Many good people lost their lives last year-”

“No thanks to you!” A lone voice cried out from somewhere in the back of the room.

“-and many more were injured in the conflict,” Takatora continued. We come here to commemorate and celebrate those who loved this city and the people within it, whether they are here with us today or gone beyond our grasp. We…”

As Takatora went on with the speech, Shun looked around his seat. He was placed in the back due to his last-minute RSVP, but he was still able to see the front of the room pretty clearly. To his left were a row of empty seats. To his right were a group of older men and women holding a sign with an Yggdrasil logo drenched in fake blood. It wasn’t too hard to tell what they thought of the address.

Shun heard some movement on his left, and a quiet voice asking, “Would you mind if we sat here?” He looked over and saw a lady around his age-maybe a bit younger-and a few others who were definitely in their early 20s. The lady wore a business suit, probably fresh off of work. The 20-somethings were dressed in mostly formal attire, dress shirts and nice slacks with jackets draped over their shoulders.

They were actually kind of more nicely dressed than he was.

He nodded. “Sure, go right ahead.”

“Thank you.” The lady and her party took a seat, quietly watching Takatora’s speech. “...it’s sad, isn’t it?”

Shun nodded. “This whole situation was a tragedy. But this kind of stuff happens all the time. Whenever tragedy strikes, PR is there to try to mop it up.”

The lady gave Shun a disappointed (and somewhat angry) look. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that one man is being put under all this pressure, all this anxiety and pain, to try to make things right when there’s no one who will allow it. Isn’t that sad?”

Yeesh.

Shun gave a small nod. “Well, when you put it that way, yeah. It’s kind of unfair. But it’s not entirely unexpected, Miss...”

“Kazuraba. Akira Kazuraba.”

“Right, Ms. Kazu...ra…”

There it was.

That name again.

Kazuraba.

“Is something wrong?” Shun snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head.

“No, no, it’s just...I’ve heard the name ‘Kazuraba’ a lot today.” Shun leaned over, hand outstretched. “Shun Masaru, Shining Star.” Akira shook his hand, but her guests didn’t return the courtesy. Getting a better look at them, he noticed they jackets they were wearing all had the Team Gaim emblem on them. Were they there when he went to the dance stage? Or were they former members? Either way, they didn’t seem too pleased to see him.

One of the girls had long brown hair. The other had short black hair. The only boy in the group had light brown hair. All of them looked extremely young-around the age of the other Beat Riders-but something about their faces (bags under their eyes, a wrinkle here and there) made them look aged. They must’ve been through a hell of a lot. Shun took out his recorder. “Would it be alright if I asked you all a few questions after the speech? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

Akira opened her mouth to speak, but the boy spoke up, his voiced in a hushed whisper. “Why should we trust you to actually care about what we have to say?” The tone he gave out was as cold as it was hurt. It looked like Shun wasn’t the first one to ask him that question.

Shun shook his head vigorously. “Trust me. From what I hear, you guys and your armored pals helped save the world. In fact, there’s one name that keeps popping up that I’m hoping you guys can give me some details on.”

The black haired girl looked to the brown haired one, whispering. The two turned to Shun. “This name...it wouldn’t happen to be Kouta Kazuraba, would it?”

“The one and the same.”

The group grew silent, sitting quietly as Takatora finished speaking, leaving the stage for the mayor of Zawame. Akira suddenly stood up. “I think now’s a good time to talk.”

\-----

_The instant we left the room, Akira rushed over to Kureshima, who was being escorted out and away from nearby protesters. The two chatted for a moment before he and his crew walked past the rest of us. Kureshima paused to look at me for a moment, as if wanting to say something. We shared a glance for a few scant seconds, and in that moment, I understood one thing clearly about the world’s most hated man: he was tired. Whether or not the story he told me in the limousine was true, this entire ordeal had taken a toll on him as well. Whatever you think of him, Takatora Kureshima was and is as much of a Child of Zawame as everyone else I’ve met during my journey across the world._

_Hell, he may very well have been the first._

_He certainly won’t be the last._

_As he began to walk away, I spotted Zack, Peco, and Jonouchi. I spoke with them for only a few seconds before they had to get going-Takatora was their ride, after all-but I had to admit, they were nice kids. I sincerely hope things go well for them in the future. While Zack and Peco walked out after they were done with me, Jonouchi stopped and said:_

_“Hey, listen...if...if you could put in a dedication to Ryoji Hase in your article-”_

_I nodded before he could finish. He gave a small smile before joining his friends out the door._

_I watched as they and the Kureshimas made their way out..._

Takatora walked away and out the door, where Mitsuzane was waiting for him. Mitsuzane opened the door and looked back at the group, a sad smile on his face as he gave a short wave. The Team Gaim members each gave nods in return. The brown haired girl and the brown haired boy each didn’t make total eye contact with him, though. Maybe they’re the ones he hurt, Shun wondered. As he turned to leave, however, Akira spoke up.

“Micchy.”

Mitsuzane stopped in place. He didn’t look back, but Shun could venture a guess that these two had a history (maybe through Kouta?). Whatever the reason, Akira continued.

“I’m making steak tonight. You and your brother are more than welcome to come over.”

Mitsuzane didn’t respond, staying perfectly still for a few moments. Eventually, though, he turned his head, tears welling up in his eyes. In the same cracking voice Shun heard in the limo, Mitsuzane replied, “I...we’d love to join you. Thank you very much.”

Akira gave a soft, almost sad smile back at Mitsuzane. “See you there tonight, then.” Mitsuzane nodded, sniffling as he turned away. Takatora placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as the two walked outside. Akira turned to Shun.

“There’s a sitting area we can have the interview at. It’ll be empty until all the speeches are done. Would that be alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

Akira led the way to a brightly painted room, plastered with drawings from young school kids from around the world in the aftermath of the Invasion. The amount of unity, the amount of care and compassion, the amount of hope these drawings showcased-it made Shun smile. The group ended up taking a seat at a table in the middle of the room. Shun took out his recorder and pressed the record button. “Why don’t we get started?” He looked to the Gaim members first. “Let’s get introductions out of the way. I’m Shun Masaru, and you are…?”

“I’m Chucky,” the black haired girl answered. “The couple over there are Rat and Rica.”

“We’re not a couple!” The other two glared daggers at Chucky, who just snickered..

“Ok, ok, sure. You just spend all your time together, work together, sleep in the same room as each oth-” She could barely finish before Rica covered her mouth with her hand. Akira was trying to hold back some giggles of her own.

Kids.

“Ok, then. Nice to meet you all. I’m gonna get right to the point here, if you don’t mind.” Rica and Chucky separated from each other, while Rat leaned back in his chair.

“Before you do, Mr. Masaru, I have a question."

Shun looked at Rat, raising an eyebrow. “That’s kind of my job.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty bad one, then.” Rat leaned forward, eye to eye with Shun. “Why the hell is our town getting slandered in your paper?!”

Shun leaned back a bit, eyes widened in surprise. “Slandered? I never slandered Zawame!”

“Like hell you didn’t! “These are the stories of the Children of Zawame,” right? You’re blaming us for the invasion!”

“That’s not true at all!”

“You lying-!”

Rica put a hand on Rat’s shoulder. Rat looked to her and Chucky, and leaned back, looking down in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Rica continued in Rat’s place. “What he means is, by making Zawame the headline of your story, you’ve made us the enemy of the whole world.”

“‘Zawame’s the reason I lost my family!’ ‘Zawame’s the reason I can’t go home anymore!’ “ Shun looked at Chucky, who was on her phone and using her finger to scroll down something on it. She turned the phone around, and Shun recognized the header image immediately: it was the logo for the Shining Star. “These are the two highest rated comments on your stories, and they’re not the only ones.”

Rica took out her own phone, showing it to the group. On the screen was a popular internet message board, with one particular thread stuck to the top of the page: “Zawame is why…”

“It’s not just on your site, Mr. Masaru, and I know you weren’t the first person to blame us. But you made it popular to do so. I mean, listen to this: ‘Zawame is why the economy nearly collapsed!’ ‘Zawame’s why I can’t see my mom again!’”

With every comment she read off, Shun’s heart dropped a little. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the comments because most of the constructive feedback and questions came to him through his email address, and while a few mentioned a general disdain for Zawame because of what happened, he hadn’t realized just how common those sentiments had become. How the hell had he let that slip by? He never wanted Zawame to be a target-he just needed a focal point, a starting line for the whole story.

He hadn’t even considered what the actual people living there would think about this.

Shun sat in stunned silence for at least a full half a minute. His trance was broken by Akira’s voice. “-r. Masaru? Are you alright?”

Shun blinked, then slowly nodded. “Yeah...yeah, I’m…I didn’t realize. I didn’t think about what my words might have caused. So, for that...”

He stood up, pushed his chair out, and then bowed as deep as he possibly could. “I’m sorry.” Rica, Chucky, and Rat all jumped up slightly in their chairs, looking up from Rika's phone in surprise. Akira sat still, watching Shun as he sat back down. “I’m sorry for how sudden that was, but...I’m sorry for everything I may have done to you, your friends, or your city. If there’s anything you think I can do to try to start making up for it, I’m all ears.”

Rat scratched his head before answering the apology. “I...well, thank you for the offer, but I’m not sure there’s much you can do now. What’s done is done, I guess.”

Chucky grinned, putting her arms around her two friends. “Maybe you two can let him write the foreword to your next album, huh?”

Rica squirmed, trying to get out of the bear hug, to no avail. “Chucky, let go!”

Rat just laughed, adding, “Maybe he can write an apology song as a bonus track or something!”

Apology song? Album? Just what were they-

**...WAIT A MINUTE.**

“Y-you two…” Rica and Rat looked up at Shun. By this point, his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “You guys wouldn’t happen to be the musical duo RR, would you?”

Rica groaned. “Chucky!”

Chucky shrugged. “What? It’s not like no one would’ve noticed before you left.”

Rat chuckled and nodded towards Shun.

“Guess the secret’s out!”

Akira smiled, clapping quietly. “Looks like you two have yourselves a fan! Congratulations!”

Shun’s mouth was hanging wide enough that it would’ve fallen off his head if it wasn’t attached. “...oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. There’s no way. I can’t be this lucky.”

Rica grinned, tapping her fingers on the table to make a beat. “Don’t stop fighting on, you know you can find a way~”

“Just keep riding on, you can save the day~” Rat added on, knocking on the table to add onto Rica’s rhythm.

“You know you can win, just sway to the beat~” The two paused as the whole table looked at Shun, who had his eyes closed as he sang along. After a moment, he opened his eyes, looked down, and scratched his beard. “...that’s how it goes, right?”

Rica and Rat looked at each other. They grinned, and pretended to hold microphones as they sang in unison:

“But you’ll never get there if you’re standing still~Move your feet!”

Chucky, Akira, and Shun all clapped as the two musicians took a bow. “Thank you, thank you!” Rat mimicked catching flowers, and Rica waved to the three-person crowd. The two took their seats again. Shun glanced down at his recorder. This was gonna end up being one long file. He cleared his throat, and tried to regain his composure.

“Well...thank you very much for the impromptu concert. It was an unforgettable experience.” Rat snickered. “Along with what you said before,” Shun added. “It’s given me a lot to think on. I promise you that I’ll make sure you guys-and this place-get the respect you all deserve.”

Chucky stretched her arms behind her head, smiling as she clasped her hands together. “So long as you try, at least.”

“I definitely will. Now…” Shun looked towards Akira. “If it’s alright, I’d like to ask you about your brother.”

Akira was silent for a moment. She looked to the two singers. “Rica, Rat, I got you something.” She picked up her handbag, opening it up and grabbing something inside. “I knew you were coming too, Chucky, so I made you a copy. Maybe you can put it up in your dorm.”

“Dorm?” Shun glanced over at Chucky.

“Yeah. I’m a medical student.”

Shun nodded. He didn’t really peg her for the doctor type, but hey, the field takes all kinds.

Akira took out two photo frames from her bag. “I wanted to give these to you at dinner, but I think now might be a better time. I’ll give Micchy his then instead.” She handed the frames off to the three. As they looked down at them, their expressions changed. The cheerful smiles had gone, replaced with a more neutral look. Akira took out a third frame-Mitsuzane’s, presumably-and showed it to Shun.

It was a photo of Rica, Chucky, and Rat, but with a few extra faces. Mitsuzane’s was obvious, but he looked a lot more cheerful in the photo than he had when Shun had met him. On his left were a few other members of Team Gaim, including one with white hair that Shun was sure had to be dyed in one way or another. On Mitsuzane’s left, however, was a boy with black hair, a wide grin, and a thumbs up to the camera. “Is that-”

“Yes.” Akira spoke up. “That’s my brother, Kouta.”

The other three were talking to each other about the day the photo was taken, and Shun didn’t want to interrupt their trip down memory lane, so he faced Akira instead.

“I’ve heard a few things about your brother today. Apparently, he was a philanthropist superhero, the guy that kept Kureshima from destroying the planet, and the best smoothie-mixer in town.” Akira raised an eyebrow at that. “The guy at the fruit bar said-ok, look, that’s not the point. Point is, they all seemed to know him as different people, and he’s either really important to this story or not at all. So, I’d like to try to talk to him if I can. The question is...can I?”

Akira looked at the photo for so long without a response that Shun thought she had ignored him. After a moment, she looked back up. “Kouta was stupid.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Kouta was stupid,” Akira repeated. “He always was. He wanted to make people happy, and if he could do something to help them, well, whatever happened to him didn’t matter. He always cared about others more than himself.” Her words became more forced, as tears started to gather in her eyes. “The last time I saw Kouta, he...he was changed by everything that happened. The Invasion, the Beat Riders, Yggdrasil...all of it changed who he was. I was scared. But then he…” The others had long paused their reminiscing, and were looking over with worried expressions. Chucky walked over to Akira and put a hand on her shoulder. Akira jumped slightly, startled, but returned the gesture with a small smile.

She looked back at Shun. “...he told me he was sorry...that he’d never be able to eat my cooking again. After everything that happened, after everything he went through and became...he was still stupid. I was so happy…” The tears flowed down her face, her smile staying put as she tried to maintain a composed tone. “When the rescue teams arrived, he...he didn’t come with us. He went back to try to help save the city. He hasn’t come back since.”

Shun looked away. _Great work, genius. You got three people weeping in one day-a new record._ “I’m…I’m sorry. We can stop this here if you-”

Akira shook her head. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with a small, green handkerchief as she looked back at Shun. “He hasn’t come back since that day. For the past year, there hasn’t been a night that I haven’t waited to hear a knock on the door. There hasn’t been a night that I haven’t wanted to see him waiting for me to open it up, or a night where I haven’t wanted to hear, “Hey, Sis! I’m back.” Sometimes, I swear I can hear his voice saying “it’s alright” before I fall asleep. I just...I just want him back, and safe. Since he’s been gone, I’ve been trying to help whoever I can rebuild from all that happened. That includes Takatora and Mitsuzane. You know, Micchy and Kouta used to be best friends...he just hasn’t been the same since he left.”

...now that would explain a few things. Akira looked like she wanted to say more on that note, but she appeared to think better of it and just said, “Those two are just as hurt as anyone else, and I just...I want to help them, no matter what people think of me.” She gave a small laugh as she wiped the last of the tears off her face. “I guess that makes me kind of stupid too.”

Shun returned the laugh, giving Akira a smile. “Maybe if more people were stupid like you two, the world might be a better place.”

Rica and Chucky both smiled as Akira nodded her agreement. Rat smirked and walked around the table, stopping behind Shun. "Y'know, offering to make things up for Zawame this quickly, letting Akira bleed her heart out to you-you’re a bit stupid yourself!”

Shun shrugged and grinned back at him. “Would you say I’m stupid enough to get an autograph from RR?”

As the crowd from the wake began to pour in, they would be treated to an unusual sight: a group of people at a table laughing their heads off, all smiles.

\-------

_I had my story._

_I had talked with a lot of different people, travelled to a lot of different locations, and even had a nice heart to heart with some really great locals._

_I had every bit of information I needed for the grand finale to all the work I’d done up to this point._

_Satisfied in the knowledge that I had one hell of an ending ready to go-if I’m allowed to be humble, anyway-I walked back to my hotel and stepped into the elevator…_

Shun should’ve taken the stairs.

He was squeezed into an elevator with a man talking non stop on his phone about some business meeting, a mother with a crying baby, and two kids arguing about...he wasn’t sure what, exactly. It was something about flashy ninjas and rainbow trains. He wasn’t really sure. All he knew, was that he just wanted to get back to his room, slap the do not disturb sign on his door, and write until his fingers were sore.

Right now, though, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

All of a sudden, he got some.

In the blink of an eye, everyone was gone. The mom, the kids, the salaryman-all gone. The elevator had changed; where it once was painted a dull beige, it was suddenly red-or was it orange? Or blue? The colors kept shifting, and-was the room getting bigger? Shun stumbled back, fumbling for a handrail. His hand met nothing but air, and he toppled backwards, landing on the floor with a grunt of pain. “What the hell?!”

This was a hallucination. It had to be. He was up for at least more than 16 hours by this point, and he was just seeing things. And feeling things. And seeing a snake on the elevator floor-

“SNAKE!” Shun jumped up, scrambling backwards-there was a backwards now-? and watched in awe and horror as the snake started to transform. Light bathed over it as it grew into a humanoid shape. The instant Shun blinked, the snake was gone. In its place was a man roughly around Shun’s height, with everything but its mouth covered head to toe in robes. He reminded Shun of something out of an old Disney movie. He couldn’t put his finger on the name.

One thing was for sure: this guy reminded him a LOT of the genie.

“Yo! How’s it hangin’?”

Shun wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t. The snake man, however, had other ideas.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you all day, and I gotta say, I’m both impressed and disappointed in you. I mean, nice work on finding the Kureshimas, and those Riders too! Akira Kazuraba was a surprise; I didn’t expect you two to meet, but hey, that’s fate, right? But seriously-you’ve barely got half a story, and now you’re calling it a night?”

Out of all the things going on-the trippy hallucinations, the ever-expanding, color-changing elevator, and so on-that one line stuck out to Shun. “W-what’re you talking about? Who are you?” His voice grew in both volume and anger. “A-and who’re you to tell me that my story’s incomplete?! Did you really just screw with my mind just to criticize me-” He paused. “...I’m hallucinating. I’m tired, I’m arguing with a mental manifestation of my own self-doubt. That’s what it’s gotta be.”

The snake man appeared right behind him. “Nice guess, but no.”

“HOLY-” Shun jumped forward, spinning to face the man again. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with ME?”

“Nothing on both counts! Look, think about it. You heard about Kumon Kaito, didn’t you? Didn’t you consider looking into him? Or the other two members of Team Gaim in Akira’s photo? You didn’t even bother to ask about Yoko Minato, Sid-though to be fair, you did at least get his name-, Yuuya Sumii, Sonomura-though he doesn’t really matter-or even Mai Takasukasa! That’s just sloppy reporting!” The snake man vanished, and Shun looked all around the elevator for where he went. “You think you got the whole story just because you got a few good quotes? You can’t stop there! Don't tell me all this writing and travelling hasn't taught you anything!”

The man’s voice was suddenly surrounded by static, and Shun quickly found out why: on the wall of the elevator there was now a television monitor, with the snake man right inside. He was wearing a completely different outfit, looking more like an exercise instructor on an old VHS tape than a mysterious entity. “I will give you props, though, for asking who I am! It’s a good start! You can call me DJ Sagara if you like, but I think you already know me by a different name.”

Shun started to take out his recorder. Sagara shook his head. “That’s not gonna do much good here! After all, aren’t you hallucinating?” He gave Shun a devilish smirk. “Or are you?”

“Just tell me who you are!”

“Ok, ok! Calm down, there.” More monitors began to appear all over the elevator, all showing Sagara. The unified voices spoke down to Shun: “I’m also known...as Helheim.”

Shun started to back up. “H-Helheim? Like-”

“-the forest that kickstarted the whole Invasion, that tempted Ryouma Sengoku and his kind with the promise of power beyond imagination, the very one from which the Armored Riders gained their powers, and the whole reason you’re here in the first place?” Sagara smiled, an almost innocuous expression were it not for the words that preceded it. “That’s the one!”

Shun was floored. This had to be a lack-of-sleep induced hallucination. There’s no way he could’ve stumbled upon the cause of the invasion, let alone have it be so...cheery about it.

“You...you tried to destroy the world! You created monsters! You-”

“-did nothing of the sort!” Sagara shook his head, giving a shrug. “Really, Shun. Hey, listen. You like hearing stories, don’t you?”

“You ruined the lives of thousands-MILLIONS of people! You turned the world against Zawame City!”

Sagara shook his head. “We didn’t do that! You humans did that to yourselves-or rather, a few select ones. In any case, you provided some top notch entertainment!”

Shun scowled at the screen, pointing accusingly as he asked, “Is that why you did this? Entertainment?! For your sick kicks?!”

Sagara held up his hands in mock fear. “Oooh, scary!” He leaned forward, his eyes taking up half the screen. “No, the entertainment was a side-effect. What I got from you humans...was evolution!”

“...evolution?” Shun couldn’t help but bear an expression of disbelief. “You know how that works, right?”

Sagara waved him off. “You just don’t understand! That’s why you need more information!” He smiled a toothy grin as he vanished from the screen. Shun wheeled around so he wouldn’t be surprised again...but Sagara wasn’t behind him. He turned around again. Nothing. No one.

Shun looked up.

Sagara was hanging down from the ceiling, eye to eye with him.

“And that’s just what I’m here to give you.”

“What’re you-”

Sagara placed a hand on Shun’s forehead.

Shun closed his eyes to blink.

When he opened them, he was in a completely different space. Screens surrounding him, playing out events he had never seen before in his life. Two young men fighting each other with an army of Inves at their backs. A young girl in white, floating through time and space. A fight between two brothers, betrayals by close friends, wannabe heroes snuffed out before they have a chance. Visions and images flooded Shun’s mind, too much for him to handle. “What is all this?! What’s going on?!”

Sagara floated alongside Shun, arms crossed. “You’re a reporter, right? It’s your job to figure things out! I’ve given you all the info you’ll need to finish this story off right.”

In the blink of an eye, everything froze.

“But, then again...should I really just give you all of the answers? Wouldn’t that be too easy?” Shun watched as all of the screens flickered to black, leaving just one with Sagara’s face on it right in front of him. As each screen vanished, the knowledge that came with them, outside of that which Shun already knew and the scant few names Sagara had mentioned, vanished from his mind. Sagara leaned forward, all smiles. “I think it'd be much more fun to see you try to piece together what you have already. It's like trying to solve a puzzle, when you just can't find that last piece-the frustration and effort makes things so much more worth it! What do you think?”

“...what do I think?” Sagara nodded, his hands to his chin like a child waiting to hear something from a parent. Shun looked down for a moment before glancing back up. “I think... **YOU’RE COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR GODDAMNED MIND!** ”

Sagara jumped back in his screen, eyes wide in surprise (mock or not) as Shun pointed angrily at the monitor. “First you tell me you think I’m doing a crappy writing job, then you tell me you’re responsible for nearly wiping out my planet, but you’re still gonna give me everything I need to write this stupid article-why the hell would an alien snake care about what the hell I write, anyway?! How the hell would you read it?! You’re a sentient alien forest, for crying out loud!” Sagara’s smile grew wider and wider as Shun ranted and raved. “Now you’re just gonna take it all away?! Do you know what it feels like to have thoughts ripped out of your head? It’s not goddamn fun! There's no way in hell I'll be able to get all that back on my own! What do you want from me?!”

Sagara clapped his hands together and pointed back at Shun. “That! That’s what I want!”

“...what?”

The screen flickered off, and Shun was returned to the familiar elevator backdrop. Sagara was once more in his robes, his arms stretched out wide. “That’s what I want. That passion, that anger, that self-righteous indignation! If it weren’t for that very emotion, well, you wouldn’t be standing here today!”

Sagara walked up to Shun and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Kouta Kazuraba had that same kind of drive to find answers, the willingness to break the rules of reality and create a whole new world all his own, while still saving the Earth in the process!” He leaned on Shun’s shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not just talking to you to get you to write a good story. That’d be just too mundane!”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“Don’t really know. Boredom, curiosity, some mysterious agenda-take your pick.“ Sagara gave Shun’s shoulder a pat. “All I know is that waiting for primates to evolve doesn’t leave you with a lot of intelligent conversation. Though I’m not sure I could call this chat that either.”

“Hey!”

Sagara stepped aside, obviously grinning behind his robes as he turned to face Shun. “What I do know is that you’re in a very interesting position. You’re a storyteller. Whether you do it well or not, or whether you remember everything or leave crucial details out, you influence your world with a simple flick of the wrist. You could make your world and its people evolve further, becoming even greater, or just grind it to a halt and deprive it of the chance to change. You humans hold just as much strength in your words, in your stories, in here-" At this, Sagara tapped his head, letting out a chuckle as a grin overtook his face. "-as you do in any fist, weapon, or power in the universe. If that’s not interesting, I don’t know what is.”

“Gee, thanks.” Shun couldn’t tell if this was high praise or a backhanded compliment, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “But that still doesn’t answer my question. If I let the world know about you, how do you know that we won’t come gunning for you, wherever you are? You should know personally that we humans are a resilient and persistent bunch of folks.”

As Shun talked, he noticed the elevator lights dimming, and the backdrop fading away into a void of nothingness. The last thing he heard as darkness overtook him was Sagara’s laugh, and these words:

“Well, even if you told them everything I told you...what makes you think they'll even believe it?”

Shun opened his eyes.

The businessman was still there, yammering on.

The mother and child were still waiting for their floor.

The little kids were still arguing.

Shun didn’t quite know what just happened. He didn’t know if any of that was real, or if it did, whether or not any of it mattered.

He just knew he had to write.

Shun rushed out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, making a beeline for his room. He tossed off his jacket and sat down at the chair in front of his room’s desk as fast as he could. He placed his briefcase on the table, opening it. His mind raced as he took out his laptop and flipped it open. As before, the file of notes for the article was right there waiting for him. He opened up a new document.

He opened up his Web browser and began to search the names Sagara had brought up. He mostly got memorial pages with mourners reminiscing about old friends, and old census records that didn’t have a whole lot in the way of information. They weren't much, but it was better than nothing at all.

Shun glanced back at the document. Did it even really matter? The alien tree snake...thing had a point. Who would believe him? There was only so far he could stretch a reader's disbelief, and he was pretty sure everything he learned up to this point would toe that line pretty closely. Aliens and superheroes were one thing, but he knew he had gotten unbelievably lucky in finding who he did today. The odds of meeting nearly everyone central to this entire situation in one day (not to mention RR and the source of the entire invasion on top of that) were slim to none. Who the hell would really think anything he wrote actually happened?

Shun sat at his desk for a good while, staring at the bright light of the laptop. It was now or never.

"...oh, to hell with it."

Shun cracked his knuckles, pulled his chair up, and began to type like a man possessed. He didn’t stop until 4:35 in the morning, and even that didn’t really stop him. His body just gave out, and he passed out in his chair.

The next day, after a full night and day’s sleep, he took the 6:30 P.M. bullet train out of town. Shun had a window seat all to himself, giving him a nice view of Yggdrasil Tower as the sun set behind it. Hell, it looked like he had the car all to himself. It must’ve been a slow night. As the train left the station, and Zawame shrunk into the distance, Shun wasn’t sure what to feel. Closure? Happiness? Relief? Emotions swirled around in his mind like a spiraling drain. He took out and opened up his laptop, glancing at the piece of work that would either make or break his career. He wasn’t going to change anything; he had spent the whole day copy and content editing until his fingers nearly bled. The one thing he had left to do was make the introduction.

He could have added a simple thank you on top of his usual spiel.

He could have just copy/pasted the very first introduction he ever wrote, with a few cosmetic changes.

He could’ve done a lot of things.

Instead, he took a deep breath.

And he started to write.

_It’s been a year since I started to write Children of Zawame, and during that time, I’ve seen a lot of unique people and heard a lot of unbelievable stories. I thought that saving Zawame City for last would have been the piece de resistance, the climax to the story of the Invasion, the story of humanity._

_I couldn’t have been more wrong._

_Zawame City should have been the first on my list, not just because it was the starting point of the Invasion, but because it would have defined everything going forward. The story of the Invasion is not as simple as good vs. evil, human vs. alien. There was evil, for sure, and there was absolutely good._

_But above all else, there weren’t just stories in Zawame._

_There were people._

_People who helped others._

_People who hurt others._

_People who made the right choices._

_People who made mistakes._

_People who lost friends._

_People who lost family._

_People who lost who they were._

_People who became someone new._

_People who fought long and hard to make sure the rest of the world would be safe, to make sure that humanity would not be left to rot under the foot of an even greater menace than we could have ever imagined._

_All this time, I thought it was about the stories alone, the heroics and the tragedies. I lost sight somewhere along the line of just what this entire thing was supposed to focus on-or rather, who._

_I intend to change that._

_This isn’t the story of the Children of Zawame._

_This is the story of its people._

_And this is the story of how they saved the world._

\---

** EPILOGUE **

As Shun packed away the laptop, article finished and a weight off his shoulders, he felt a small thud on the seat next to him. He glanced over, and saw a pretty sketchy-looking guy in shades, a leather jacket, black pants, brown hair slicked in a god-knows-what kind of style, and a bright pink shirt. He had a briefcase similar to Shun’s own, but it looked slightly bulkier. Oddly, Shun didn’t even notice that they’d made a station stop-he must’ve been really in the zone. The guy took off his shades and placed them in a pocket in his jacket. The two sat in silence for a moment as the train rode on before Shun realized that this guy looked really familiar.

“Excuse me…” The guy looked over as Shun turned to face him. “You look familiar. You wouldn’t have happened to be in Zawame yesterday, would you?”

“That’s right,” the guy replied.

“I knew it! I think I saw you at Druper’s, right?”

“Well, either you did or you didn’t. I can’t tell you what you saw.”

“...right. Well, I’m pretty sure I saw you.”

“If you say so.”

Shun held out his hand. “I’m-”

“Shun Masaru, of the Shining Star.”

Shun’s mouth snapped shut. “...how did you know that?”

The guy smirked, and something about that smirk just set off alarm bells in Shun’s mind. “I saw you around town introducing yourself. Not hard to guess.”

Shun shuffled back in his seat, facing forward so he wouldn’t have to see the guy’s face. “Who might you be?”

“Oh, no one special.” The guy drummed out a beat on his briefcase, seemingly bored with the conversation. He looked over at Shun, who was sporting a glare. “Ok, fine. I’m Tsukasa. How’d it go, anyway?”

“How’d what go?”

“Your investigation.”

“I think it went pretty well,” Shun said, grinning. “I got a lot more info than I expected.”

“Oh? Did you find out about the Showa/Heisei war?”

Shun blinked. “...the what now?”

“You haven’t? Nothing about Badan or Fifteen? Faiz or Double? Any of that ringing a bell?” He reached into his jacket. “Here, I got a picture.” He took out a small polaroid, and handed it to Shun.

It was nothing but a motion blur.

“...this...isn’t helping.”

“Did anyone you talk to remember seeing a giant dinosaur train robot at any point?”

Shun shuffled towards the window. This guy was starting to freak him out. “No...no, they didn’t mention anything like that.”

“Huh.” Tsukasa placed a hand on his chin. “That’s unfortunate.” He tapped his chin with his finger before asking, “You’re not that good of a reporter, are you?”

Shun was starting to get pissed off. “And you’re not that good of a photographer.” Tsukasa looked offended. “Look, I don’t know what or who you’re talking about, so you’d better start explaining.”

Tsukasa grinned. He held up his briefcase and proceeded to wave it in front of Shun. “You’d be surprised what juicy secrets are in this little case.

Shun reached for the briefcase, but Tsukasa yanked it out of his reach. “Ah, ah, ah. A good reporter always offers something in exchange for information.”

Shun scowled. “Fine. What do you want?”

Tsukasa grinned wide, and reached into his jacket. He took out a bright pink camera. “I want a photo.”

“...a photo?”

“Yep.”

Shun snickered. Was this guy for real? “Ok, fine. Try to get me looking nice and blurry. You gonna put it on Facebook or something?”

“Oh, something like that.” Tsukasa raised the camera, and Shun forced a smile. “Say Rider!”

“Rid-wait, what?”

The flash of the bulb disoriented Shun, making his vision go white for a moment. As it began to return, it looked almost as if there were multiple Tsukasas in front of him. “Alright, a deal’s a deal,” the Tsukasas said. Shun heard a “thunk” sound-was that the briefcase? His vision began to clear up, and he saw Tsukasa beginning to walk away from the seat.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Shun leapt up and ran after him, down the train car and to the door, where Tsukasa stopped. “Just what’s going on? How do you know who the Armored Riders are? Who are you, really?”

Tsukasa turned around, reaching into his jacket. “What’s going on is that you’ve got a lot more research to do. “Armored Riders”? That’s not even scratching the surface. As for who I am...” He pulled out a card from his jacket, flipping it in his hand before tossing it towards Shun, who caught it right before it flew by. The card showed a mask with a pink color scheme, black lines running down its face, and green “eyes” for a visor. A label underneath read “Masked Rider DECADE.” Shun looked up at Tsukasa, who leaned on the door frame. “You can keep that and the ones in the case. They’re just copies I picked up in one world or another; I was looking to get rid of them somewhere. I keep mixing them up with the real deal.”

Shun slowly placed the card in his pocket. “You didn’t answer me. Who are you?”

“Like I said, I’m no one special.” Tsukasa opened the door. Shun couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light, but the space between train cars almost looked...wavy? Tsukasa looked over his shoulder back at Shun. “I’m just a Masked Rider passing through. Keep that in mind.” He turned away and walked through the frame, the door closing the instant he passed through. Shun rushed over and opened the door, rushing into the next car. Tsukasa, however, was nowhere to be seen.

As he made his way back to his car and seat, Shun’s mind raced. Where did he go? Who was he? What the hell was he talking about? Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep last night. Maybe all of this was a dream, or a hallucination like what happened in the elevator. Maybe. Shun looked back in his row. The briefcase was still there, and he wasn’t waking up, so odds are that it wasn’t a dream or an hallucination. He grabbed the case, sat down, and stared at it for a good minute.

Eventually, he opened it up. Inside was card after card, just like the one Tsukasa had tossed him. There had to be at least thirty of these things, if not more, all with unique designs and names attached to them. Kiva, Den-O, Kuuga, Blade, Ryuki-the names went on and on. Shun went through each of them, trying to make sense of all this, but he just couldn't. It all just seemed...silly, for one thing, and unbelievable for another. One of the cards had a guy named DRIVE, with a tire around his chest, for God's sake. He pocketed the card. This was completely ridiculous.

Then again, he had just written a completely serious article on fruity warlords...

“We will be arriving in Tokyo in five minutes.” Shun jumped, not expecting the sudden voice. “Please gather all of your personal belongings before exiting the train.” He quickly closed up the briefcase, and picked up his own. He gently placed the card case on top of his laptop one, and looked out the window at the approaching Tokyo skyline. He looked down, seeing the streetlights lit up bright across the roads.

As he gazed down, he noticed a red car, with black and white racing stripes. This wasn’t unusual; there were lots of sports cars in Tokyo. This car wasn’t stationary, however. It was keeping up with the train. Must be pretty fast to keep up with-

Shun jumped back in his seat as something flew past the window. All he could make out was its massive, bat-like wings. "What the hell was that?!" Shun slammed the card case shut as the train began its emergency braking procedures.

As the train screeched to a halt, and confused shouts and screams filled the train, the car stopped as well. Its roof opened up - was it a convertible now?- and out from it jumped a man in spandex and a mask.

With a giant tire around his chest.

A second after Shun made this realization, the car sped up and quickly vanished from his line of sight, as did the tire man. Shun sat back in his seat processing that scene for a moment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out both the Drive card and his cell phone. He opened up the speed dial, called the top number, and waited a moment. He heard the party on the other end pick up almost instantly.

"Hello?”

"Hey, boss. It's Shun. I may be a bit late getting to the office. Got some issues with the train." Shun grinned wide as he twirled the Drive card around. "But trust me, when I get back...

I've got one hell of a story to tell you."


End file.
